


Hanakotoba

by BeepBeepBeep



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A lot of fluff later on, Body Horror, Do you like feudal Japan, Ghosts, Hanzo is a ghost, Hanzo is fucking dead, Jesse is an archaeologist, Language Barrier, M/M, Trans Character, Violence, because I sure do, especially in the first chapter, hanahaki, kind of, vomit warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-04-25 16:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14382348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeepBeepBeep/pseuds/BeepBeepBeep
Summary: Jesse McCree wanted to be an archaeologist for one reason.Treasure.Tales of riches and fallen empires, like he had seen in countless movies as a kidThe reality of it is too dull. Mostly common objects, nothing exciting about it. Bowls, pottery, the occasional handheld mirror.Going to Japan to assist in the excavation of a half buried mountain town seemed like a great idea, an even better one when he comes across a half toppled castle.Until he finds a rather ticked off ghost.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first AO3 work, and although I've done the best I can with research into my setting, there's probably a lot of inaccuracies, especially with the interior of the castle, so please bear with me! I did my best! <3

When Hanzo awakens for what has to be the third time that day, slumped against the wet wood of the platform outside his door, he's already decaying, like a living corpse. His hands are greying, and look as if they've shrunken slightly. Either that, or his fingernails are suddenly ridiculously long. His skin is brittle, and is hard in some places, a dull ache spreading through his fingers as he attempts to flex them.

The air outside is pleasantly cool, rain hammering down at a steady pace on the low, sloped roof of Shimada castle. There are storm clouds overhead, and the roll of thunder in the distance. Somewhere, he knows there is lightning, and part of him lomgs for the jarring excitement of watching bright streaks as they hit the earth, and light up the sky. He pulls his kimono tighter around his shoulders, one hand resting comfortably on the wood underneath him in order to support himself as he attempts to stand. He wipes his nose, looking at his hand, and sees blood, smeared over porcelain colourer palms. Slowly but surely, his pigment is being stolen from him. His hair is greying at the roots. He's seen it plenty of times, in his own reflection, detected the white that resides now in the stubble over his chin. An unsightly thing to have, but, at the moment, he cannot be bothered to rid his face of it.

Ignoring the pain that seems to protest his movements, the Shimada heir traces a hand over his jaw, absentmindedly, and his trembling fingertips catch the ragged, brittle hair that is growing there. In the past, particularly during the last few weeks of his life, he had been obsessive over his appearance, over shaving, making sure his hair was perfect, his posture was immaculate, his skin was devoid of imperfection. It's a sharp contrast to now, where he cannot even muster the energy to clear his face of such a simple thing. His hair is also ridiculously tangled, out of fear, that once it is free to flow down his back, he will already see the grey creeping in.

Coughing, he ignores the blood that drips from his mouth, choosing to spit it out along with the forced up petals that taste like death just outside of the shelter of the roof. The rain will clear them up soon enough, so it isn't exactly a problem, though the servants may be suspicious. He's not likely to be found out at this point, not until the flowers wrap themselves around his brain like snakes.

He hauls himself to his feet, head swimming as his balance takes a moment to register, before he begins forcing his feet to move.

The walk back to his room is a slow, difficult and lonely one. He leans against the nearest wall, breath heavy and aching, as he tries to avoid detection from anyone within his household. As he turns the corner, he runs into a young woman, whom he recognizes as being a new addition to the household. She appears slightly ruffled, and out of place, as if she has been running, or had gotten dressed rather quickly earlier that morning.

She starts upon seeing him, blinking. Hanzo knows he should tell her to leave, but before his tired brain can catch up, she's on him, beside him, attempting to help him struggle to do something as simple as walk through corridors. "Young master, are you sick?" she asks, every aspect of her pity grating on his insides. He does not want to talk to anyone. He does not want to expose his shame to anyone. Partially due to cowardice of what his father would say.  
"No, no, I simply twisted my ankle while going up the steps from the garden. I require rest." Hanzo brushes her off with a wave of his hand, making sure his kimono covers the majority of the damage creeping up his arm.  
"But-"  
"I do not need assistance-" Hanzo practically growls, turning his back on the woman who is fussing over him like a mother whose child has taken a tumble. He huffs, irritated, before continuing on his way to his room, ensuring his exhaustion is accompanied by a limp, for the purpose of keeping up a lie should the woman be watching or searching for dents in his lie. Usually, he would have her reprimanded for daring to approach him, but the mix of pity for her new employment, and his exhaustion, prevent him from striding off and running his mouth to father like a spoilt child. Which, he supposes, is what he has been for far too long.  
Hes going to hit himself.  
The woman obeys him without another word as he forces open the door to his room, and clambers inside, struggling a little as he forces the door shut. The room is cold, likely due to rain, but it does not bother Hanzo too much as he does not think about it. He pulls the robes of his kimono tighter around his shivering, weakened form in an attempt to try and drive off the persistent numbness of his upper body, as he tries to not choke on the petals that threaten to burst from his throat. He has a small jug, hidden in the room, that he has been using to avoid leaving evidence behind for several days now, if he could only be bothered to walk several more metres to get it. His inability to eat, to keep food down, has fed into weakness, but he supposes, starvation is a plentiful alternative to dying of hanahaki, if the flowers do not take this as an opportunity to strike him faster.  
He motivates himself, stumbling across the room with several dull thumps, before he makes contact with the opposite wall, and slides down it. There, he is within reach of his mat, where he sleeps, and where he has hidden the bowl he uses in case he needs to rid his body of the excess petals at night. It smells awful, despite the fact that it has been cleaned out many times. Hanzo cannot wash out the smell of oddly sickly sweet blood no matter how many times he tries to do so.  
His throat is fluttering, almost pulsating.  
Hanzo coughs, before gagging, and proceeds to throw up into it, allowing crushed petals and a river of blood to hit the bottom without so much as a gentle echo. His head is once again, fuzzy, as he struggles to hold onto consciousness, the smell of something not unlike copper making him want to gag.  
It takes him, and brings him into a gentle sleep, freeing him temporarily from his symptoms.  
Hanzo awakens in a comfortable position, the area beneath him feeling oddly cushiony. He attempts to sit up, but fails, tumbling to the ground again with a thud, though, luckily, the impact of the blow is softened by the mat under him as he tumbles, muttering curses under harsh breath.  
"Oh. You're up! Good." Comes a merry voice. Hanzo opens his eyes, only to be met with a blur, the eye on his right worse than the left. After a few blinks, the left is able to focus, revealing his nervous looking, but happy younger brother, hair unkempt and messy, and dark circles under his eyes. Its not clear if such things are from worry, or from Genjis habits of sneaking out at night to meet women in the nearby village.  
"Ah. Genji. I forgot about your...commitment. Hm." Hanzo attempts to joke, though his tone is anything but humorous. He raises a shaky hand, attempting to fix the lopsided topknot that has made its home on Genjis head. It hangs limply, before tumbling out of shape entirely, Genjis long hair falling down his back in tangled waves.  
"Of course. Im doing the right and noble thing- by looking after my slowly dying older sibling." Genji offers a strained smile, tucking a strand of his fallen hair behind his ear, and Hanzo just manages the simple action of rolling his eyes at him in an exaggerated manner, though he has to hide a small huff of amusement.  
"Thank you. Did anyone see you come in- Did father-?"  
"Not a glimpse, and don't worry, he's none the wiser, for now" Finally deciding to relax, somewhat, Genji offers a weak, forced smile, which Hanzo only nods in response to, not feeling up to the effort of feigning hope right now. Genji's smile quickly vanishes. "I... I don't think you can keep this up for long- well, you look- horrible. How is it-?"  
"Good enough. I am starting to go blind. My attempts at starvation are not going well. The flowers seem determined to keep me going, at least until they have taken what they can from me." Hanzo huffs, resisting the urge to cough. It is not painful, but it seems to be a gentle throb. It seems to be there just to remind him that the cause of it is there, and that it isn't going away anytime soon. Hanzo seems to address his illness as casually as he would refer to the weather, expression not at all moved by the fear of what is inevitably coming.  
"So, then..."  
"It will happen soon. Perhaps within a few days." Hanzo nods, already feeling a knock in his perception of reality as his brain temporarily slips out of the conversation. The idea of being left in a semi self aware state is… alarming. But there's nothing he can do now. To attempt removal of the flowers this late in the game would be useless. He shakes his head, sighing as he raises a trembling hand to clutch his forehead, though he keeps it hidden in his sleeve.  
"And-"  
"I still want you to kill me when that happens." Hanzo opens his other eye, milky white beginning to slowly grow over the dark pupils. He's focusing as best he can on his younger brother, who has gone rather pale, but has a strange look of determination on his soft features.  
"Normally, I would not ask such a thing of you, Genji. But I do not- I do not wish to shame my family after I lose my mind. I will not be in that head any more, if it's any help. I will have... died, in a way, already." Hanzo bows his head, ashamed of himself. It becomes apparent, suddenly, that Genji has brushed his hair, and cleaned him up a little, as he no longer feels the knots that were stuck to his scalp earlier. Hanzo runs a hand through it, and chuckles, amused, and slightly cheered by the idea that his baby brother would think of such a thing.

"I guess it would be best for it to be over quickly." Genji concludes, pondering for a moment how it would even feel to have to run a sword the stomach of someone he held close to his heart. "Heard it gets... pretty hellish towards the end. Hah."  
There is a moment of silence between the two brothers, as Genji closely examines his sibling, whose breathing has increased slightly in terms of pace.  
". It will not hurt. I will not feel it. I am already gaining numbness in my limbs." Hanzo folds back the sleeves of his kimono, showing his greying hands off to his sibling, who seems to recoil a little in shock and disgust. There are cracks up his hands and arms, not unlike those you would see in the ground of the desert, some opening up to reveal small wounds. Inside, if he looks closely, Hanzo can see the emerging buds of flowers. It's enough to make his stomach sink."  
Genji gags, before covering his mouth with one hand, looking embarrassed, though Hanzo is not at all offended by his disgust.  
"...It does not hurt too much, now." Is all Hanzo says, folding his hands on his lap, where they sit comfortably. His palms lack any open wounds, and the cracks do not appear to be dripping, so Hanzo judges it likely that it won't stain. "... I wasn't expecting it to be so severe. Hah. They must have grown in during my rest." he attempts to laugh, though his efforts feel heavy, and Genji says nothing, edging forward towards Hanzo. An arm wraps around him, then another, and it takes several moments for Hanzo to process that Genji is hugging him, pressing his head to his brothers chest, as if to listen to the unsteady thrums of his dying heartbeat.  
"I'm sorry, Hanzo." Genji mutters, and Hanzo lifts both arms, covering his hands with the hem of his sleeves before wrapping his arms around Genji in return, relishing in the peaceful silence. The brothers don't move, nor do they speak, for several moments, then minutes. Sleep, now, is a tempting ideal, the rhythmic breaths of Hanzos younger sibling almost like an unusually reassuring lullaby. Like a reminder of when Genji was not much more than a month old, when Hanzo tried to teach him how to walk, and Genji ended up stumbling forward after an attempt at lifting by Hanzo and hitting his face off a wooden beam. Memories of when things were so much easier. Despite himself, Hanzo chuckles at the thought.  
Genji still doesn't say anything.

All Hanzo can see is black

"Hanzo." calls a quiet voice, tone soft, and gentle. Yet, it doesn't feel quite real, like hes hearing it in another room, or on the wind. He can feel the soft brush of a hand underneath his chin, feel the gentle breath of another man on his face. A hand against his own, lacing soft fingers together. If he opens his eyes, he can see the outline of a figure, which seems to be glowing, in gold. He can see that smile, and despite the rage he feels, he recognizes it, and leans into the gentle, fleeting touch of his hand. Lips are on his own, delicate, as if their owner is afraid of scaring away the man who is clutching him so desperately. Hanzo only just realizes how tightly his hands are hooked in the others clothes. the voice calls again, a soft cooing, before kissing him again, the slight tickle against his chin making it clear the man has a beard.  
"...It is dark, Hideyoshi, we should be heading back, or we'll be found. You have negotiations with my father in the morning, you'll be tired, I cannot take responsibility-" Hanzo hears his own voice say, or more accurately, tremble, his tone and pitch wavering and clumsy, which is unusual. He doesn't want to remember.  
There is silence between the two of them, and Hanzo is silenced by another quick kiss, though this time, he does not make excuses to stop.  
Hanzo wakes up in a cold sweat, gasping as his eyes are drawn around the room. There's a harsh heaviness in his stomach, and before he can do anything about it, the familiar taste of blood is clouding his mouth.  
He forces himself up with strength he didn't know he had left in him, thankful Genji is no longer draped across him, and forces his way over to the outside door, though it takes quite a few tries to force it open.  
After freeing his anxiety from the confines of the dark room, Hanzo promptly vomits on the wooden platform outside, some splattering onto the mats of the indoors. Thank the heavens it's only a little. It's a puddle of bright red blood and delicate petals, most of which don't even look damaged, though they are usually crushed and torn. Hanzo doesn't think much of it, stumbling back a few feet before toppling to the ground with a dull thud. Genji is beside him, saying no words, only offering fleeting mutters of comfort. Hanzo says nothing in reply.

It takes little more than two days. At exactly 6am, there's a crash from Hanzo's room, and a loud cry which is not unlike the shriek of an injured animal who has just realized it's been captured. Muttering, loud calls of concern, and whispers, are the only sounds in the palace, no indication of any other activity.  
Hanzo is found on the first floor, attempting to flee across the gravel gardens outside to the forests, though he can barely walk, and has attempted to crawl, dirtying and tearing his clothes to the extent where it is not clear if they can be salvaged.  
The guards refuse to touch him due to fear at first. There's a trail of blood following Hanzos body out from the door, neat spider lily petals and blossoms littering the path like a strange, cruel kind of confetti. Oddly, they are pristine, as if they have grown along the path where he has struggled to crawl. There are cuts on his face, presumably from his tumble down the steps. There are flowers sprouting out of his arms, stems nestled deeply into his limbs. Some of them are visible, and almost appear like veins of an odd sort. They create rises in the skin, and look horribly painful, yet, Hanzo does not seem to care, only murmuring the name of a particular man under his breath that his brother wants to kill slowly and painfully, if he ever gets the chance  
"Where are you hiding him?" Hanzo pleads with several of the guards, some of whom have gottennover their disgust, as they take him inside, stealing him away from the little progress he had made. In his resistance, he begins to weakly kick as he is hauled up, his toes catching and kicking the gravel of the garden in an attempt to fight back against who he sees as his enemies.   
"Take me to him! I know he's here! He promised! He promised me-" His shouts fade down the hall, as Hanzo begins to scream, a gurgle deep in his throat from what is presumably blood, stirred up by the plant feeding on his brain.  
Genji stiffens.  
The younger Shimada does his best to block out the screams as he reaches down for his blade, tucked to the side of his kimono. In the privacy of his room, he takes it from his sheath, pondering his actions. It's sharp, and a test on his fingertips reveals it breaks skin with little effort, allowing blood to seep through to the air without so much as a pinch of effort from the now Shimada heir. For a while, the only noise in the palace is Hanzo's screams of despair and confusion, and their fathers mutterings of annoyance and distress at Hanzo's refusal to accept, that no, they did not hide the object of his affections from him, and no, he is not coming back for Hanzo, no matter how hard he prays.  
This continues for several days, and the shrieks do not stop, they only grow quieter. By the third, Hanzo is barely whimpering, though his sobbing can be heard through the held doors. Genji has had enough.  
Under the embrace of darkness, Genji is gently bathed in orange, carrying a small lantern to light his way through pitch black corridors, sword barely glinting in the faint light. The guards keeping Hanzo in, rather than keeping people out, allow Genji inside with no bother, and greet him properly, not showing any sign that they know what is about to happen.  
Genji places the lantern on the floor after closing the door behind him, ignoring the slight draft. At the edge of the glow, Hanzo can be seen, heaped in a puddle of dried blood and flowers on the floor. He's ridiculously thin, ribs jutting cruelly out of skin, as he gasps, and struggles for the slightest bit of air. His hair is white, gleaming in the faint light of the small lantern.  
Even now, his brother seems to recognize him, crawling forward to him, where he grabs weakly onto the edge of his clothing.  
"H-Hanzo-"  
Hanzo hacks and coughs, blood splattering onto the floor at the space between his feet. Genji winces at the horrid sound. His brother, even now, recognizes his voice. Somehow, Genji wishes he didn't. It would make detaching from him right now so much easier.  
"Hanzo." he whispers, unsure if this is real or not. Hanzo looks up at him, and Genji feels sick. His eyes are bloodshot, red smeared over his face as blood drips from his eyes, nose, and mouth, his lips dry and cracked. On his left cheek, and his forehead, are cracks in the skin, red spider lilies freely blooming in the openings. The orange light makes it that much more eerie, Hanzo's blind eyes catching the orange light of the lantern, which continues to sit idly in the corner, undisturbed.  
Genji feels a rise in his stomach at the rotten sight.  
"He- he promised-"  
"Hanzo, shh- shh-" Genji bends forward, only a little, looking over the rest of Hanzo's body, draped in clothing which now looks almost comically too big for him. "Its... gonna be okay. Soon. Soon. Promise."  
"Genji draws his sword, shaking, as he stares down at the nearly-blind man in front of him. Hanzo is staring at something he cannot see, and guilt riddles his form, knowing that his brother can't even see the danger that's coming."  
"Just- relax, Hanzo. I'll be there, I'll be there soon, I promise, I promise-" he repeats, over and over, as he raises the sword in his hands, and, closing both eyes, slams the blade into Hanzos body.  
He does not scream, or cry out. In fact, after the initial impact, Hanzo goes completely silent, though a wet gasp indicates he is not yet dead.  
Genji sheathes the blade in his body again and again, eyes squeezed shut, chest beginning to heave with panic until he finally steps away from the body, blood and petals splattered over his sandals and clothes.  
The sword clatters to the ground, and Genji sinks to his knees, shaking.

It is cold when Hanzo wakes up. His body does not feel like it is his own, nor does his voice when he calls out, darkness surrounding his body. He thinks he can detect the faint push of smoke in the air, the smell of burning bodies, as well as something more unpleasant. Yet, it seems he cannot, as if he is recalling the memory of a smell rather than one.  
He stands as best he can, and walks to where his door should be, his hands fumbling to find the edge so he can pull it open. It's stuck.  
He tries again.  
No luck.  
Again.  
It won't budge.  
Oddly, it doesn't seem to at all respond to his attempts.  
Ah. Something must be blocking the other end.  
Hanzo calls out to the silent castle, pleading for assistance, despite his pride.  
Then it hits him.  
He can walk, normally, and speak, normally.  
He can see.  
Stunned by this, he steps back, pressing a hand to his chest then to his hair, where he finds it bundled into its usual neat topknot. His clothes are immaculate, and fit him well, as they did weeks before all this nonsense.  
Is he cured?  
Did something happen?  
"Genji!" he calls, suddenly excited, as he pulls on the door again, an uncharacteristically wide smile upon his regal face. Hanzo is safe. They're fine. They can build the empire they were raised to build, they can rule the world if they want to-  
Yet, there is nothing.  
Nothing at all.  
Only the occasional whisper of the wind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this isn't the best chapter :,) It's been a busy month, I've had exams and work to finish and I didn't want to leave this too long before publication, and this was more of a structuring chapter :,)
> 
> I promise it'll pick up from here, as I can worldbuild a bit more now.
> 
> Again, there are probably inaccuracies here and there, with the airport since I'm not sure how they entirely work and the place Jesse's going, but I've done my best ;D
> 
> I've also did my best to research testosterone and how it's transported/how much can be transported into certain countries, and I've used my own experiences with airport staff communication to try and make it more accurate, but it might not be. ;-;

The airport is heavy, bustling with people on their morning commute. It's a splash of colour, vibrant lights, ‘cheap’ deals, and capitalism. Neon shines over the heads of several stores, selling goods as useless as the bright signs that hang outside, attempting to entice people into the warm realm of wasting your money.  
Sitting just past security, with one hand on a pounding heart, is Jesse McCree, clutching his hat between his pinky finger and palm as he attempts to call his father for the upteenth time since he was let through, but not without way too many nervous glances and way too much close contact between him and the prissy blonde security woman who threatened to take his testosterone from him if he didn't comply. What fun.

He breathes a shaky sigh,body heavy with anxiety after the awkward exchange with airport security, who seemed like they were using every excuse possible to take his necessities away from him. He can feel the weight of the clear labelled bag now comfortably settled in the front pocket of his backpack, which suddenly feels a lot heavier for some weird reason.

He'd done everything to try and ensure that his testosterone would be allowed through, but, in the end, he probably would have been better just getting the certificate he needed to bring that much into Japan, and the doctors note he'd provided several times in emails, that they, apparently, didn't receive.

Jesse's eyes fixate intensely on a spot in the distance, world becoming distantly fuzzy, recalling the exchange between him and Gabriel that morning and the lecture he should have taken a tad more seriously, ignoring the harsh flutter in his chest.

~

“Now, Jesse…”

“Relax, dad!” he beams, shaking his head as he pushes the tattered material of his cowboy hat into Gabriels face, scruffy beard even more messy than it had been previously as the taller man yanks down the old stetson with a huff of annoyance. Jesse resembles a mischievous child, who is perhaps pushing the boundaries of cheek.

“Jesse, I don't want this to be like Spain. We nearly got detained because they thought we were bringing drugs.” Gabriel practically whines, a soft, downy head of blonde hair peeking out from around the door frame of the kitchen, Jack's face peering around at them with a curious look with his signature puppy eyes catching the light of sundown that comes through the thin, drawn blinds covering the window. .  
Geez, does he ever stop squinting?

“Relax, dad. I got this. All the paperwork is in the folder you gave me. Certificate, notes from Ana, notes from Doctor- Satya's gonna be there. She'll give anyone who fucks with me a good talking to.”

“I know, I know…”

“I sent in an email and a note and it's been read and-

“I know, Jesse.” Gabriel places a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head with a look of both worry and amusement as he digs strong fingers into Jesse's bony shoulder. “I just… fuck. Im being too much of a dad, ain't I?”

“Yep.”

“Okay… just… do well. I don't want trouble. I used to have to wrestle airport staff into letting you through with that stuff.” Gabriel rolls his eyes, pulling the worn beanie still sitting on his head down a little further.

“You're worse than Jack.” Jesse mutters, throwing a grin to the blonde eavesdropping behind the doorframe.

“Nah. Nobody fusses more than Jackie.”

“Hey!”

Merry laughter courses through the room, Jacks pink face still peeking around the doorway, though his cheeks, covered with freckles and mild sunburn, sport a cheerful grin, .

“I'll burn your damn bacon if you don't watch out, you fucks.”

~

Jesse snaps back into reality at the sound of Gabriels message tone, momentarily staring at the profile photo, which had been taken during a drunken night a few months ago, while sitting in the living room, during what was supposed to be ’family time’,, though it ended up just being a Harry Potter movie marathon, with Jack complaining half the time. Entertaining commentary, but still.

“Is that Gabriel?” pipes up a voice beside him, calm and soothing, almost maternal. Jesse glances downward and to his left, eyes flickering over his companion. Satya. The offer of a trip to Japan had been an amazing opportunity to take hold of when Jesse offered her to apply the final space. Sure enough, he feels a bit guilty for taking a place up for the simple fact he knew the organizer. Academically, he's nothing compared to Satya. He wonders if he'll be sharing the excavation site with any other geniuses. His self esteem is definitely on its way to take a hit.

“Yeah… told him I got through security. You looked like you wanted to murder someone-"

“I would have at least given them a heavy talking to, had they continued to question you like a criminal and stall our journey. But yes. I was close to hitting someone. I cannot stand the attitudes of people sometimes.” Satya grins, smug, evidently proud of her attempt at humour. Jesse snorts, scratching his goatee as he flicks up the text menu, grinning at the sight of Gabriels ‘friendly’ message.

“Shit. Sorry Jesse. Didn't see your text. Good to know I don't have to wrestle you from custody once again.” reads the message, Gabriel having left his trademark smiley face several paragraphs below. At least he didn't sign his name with it this time.

“it's good. we're through now. Plane goes in a few hours.” he responds, hastily shoving his phone back into his pocket as he rocks back and forth on his heels, attempting to focus on anything but the situation. He focuses on his surroundings once again instead.

The floorplan is circular, an escalator climbing up into the food section. Underneath, where the insides are basking in fluorescent LED lights that definitely need changing, are stores full of overpriced nonsense, a toy store lingering in the corner of the area where a little girl, eyes bright, yanks her mother’s sleeve in the direction of a teddy bear around ¾ of her size, the cheap pink tutu dancing around her waist as she jumps up and down on the smooth wooden floor, her shrieks of excitement drawing the attention of passers by, plenty of them clutching food bags in their hands.

Jesse quickly looks away as the girl begins her tantrum, as to not stare and annoy her mom further, focusing instead on his companion, who is still idly focusing on the paperwork clutched in her perfectly manicured hand. “I… Yo. Wanna get some… food? Or something? Get some energy-”

“Is that an excuse to go and purchase unhealthy garbage from upstairs?” Satya responds, sweeping the braid tucked delicately around her shoulder with a small huff, though Jesse can see the quirk of a smile on her lips.

“What…? Noooo…” he begins, pausing for a moment as he glances around him, adjusting the too-big cowboy hat currently perched on his head. “Noooo- well… Okay. Maybe. Yeah… yeah. I want a burger. And fries. Gimme a break, Satya. Lemme go and destroy my own stomach and metabolism. I have rights.” Jesse's posture slouches in defeat, and Satya only chuckles, amused.

“Relax. I was joking. I would like to perhaps take advantage of their seating, so, yes. We can go upstairs. The wall is not comfortable for my back.” Satya stands, collecting her belongings with a small smile as she tosses the end of her scarf back around her shoulder, ensuring it doesn't catch on the buttons of her rather smart looking blazer. Jesse feels rather shabby by comparison, in a beige shirt slightly too small and a faded pair of jeans that look so old they might as well have been the same age as him. 

“Thanks. Total blessin’, you are.” Jesse winks, tilting his hat in her direction with a small chuckle, a mannerism he’d picked up from watching western movies as a child. Satya pushes her hand into his chest, not allowing her nails to catch the slightly frayed fabric. Jesse only laughs, pretending to stumble and clutch at his ribs as if in a great deal of pain. “Oh, I feel like I'm dyin’-”

“Save your whining for the plane ride.” Satya beams, almost cruelly, and begins to walk, leaving Jesse to stumble after her in an attempt to avoid losing her in the crowd of irritated-looking business folk, talking into headsets or staring blankly at their phones. She's wearing bright teal, so she's not exactly invisible, but still. Jesse frets. Trust Satya to dress up for the fucking airport. Awkwardly, as soon as he's behind her, Jesse clutches weakly at the end of her scarf like a toddler trying not to lose his mother out of fear of being left alone. He begins toying with the end as he tries not to make it too obvious he's doing so, in order to not lose her.

Surprisingly, Satya, with her sharp elbows and brisk walk, ends up paving the way pretty well, dispersing the small crowd hanging around the escalator, Their fingers are pressed harshly to wrinkled temples, eyebrows narrowed out of sheer annoyance to whomever may be on the other end.

The familiar sight of fast food chain makes Jesse's eyes sparkle as he dives for the line, bobbing back and forth on his heels as he clutches his bag strap, one hand gripping tightly onto the railing separating rows of the queue as he stares at the menu, though he already knows what he wants.

He spends the next half hour with his mouth filled with flavour, as Satya watches him disgustedly from several feet away, scrolling through her phone exactly like a middle aged woman would do so. There's the gentle tap of the nail of her index finger clicking as it hits the screen.

“yer jus’ jealoush-" Jesse mutters through a mouthful of fries.

“Never do that again.” comes Satyas irritated retort as she adjusts the wire framed glasses on her nose, attempting to hide a smile, which ends up making Jesse grin. Ah. Satya’s great.

~

He talks her into getting a smoothie twenty minutes before the flight is called, or supposed to be called, Jesse reclining happily on uncomfortable metal seats with the empty cup balanced precariously between his arm and the thin armrest, which is currently digging into Jesse's side.  
He and Satya are both watching the windows, listening to the planes take off amongst the loud shrieks of excitement of children who have been asked to stand still for too long. There's a man speaking in horrendously broken variants of Spanish and French into his phone a few seats away from them, and appears to be swearing, according to the shocked mother to his left who covers her daughters ears, though the child doesn't appear to be remotely bothered and is instead staring blankly at the nintendo DS clutched in her palms, pouting.

Satya is staring at the loud man as if she's plotting a murder scheme.

Ah, the joy of airports. Lovely places.

Jesse takes out his phone, cursing the crappy data as he scrolls through posts from friends and people he admires.

Murmuring, Jesse takes the cup in his hand again without looking, nearly elbowing it onto the sleek floor in the process. He sips absentmindedly, staring blankly ahead of him in an almost mirror image of Satyas actions.

The plane winds up delayed by two hours, and when they're finally at the gate, Jesse takes up his time by pulling faces at a small Japanese boy, who has been yanking on his mother's hand for the past ten minutes, probably complaining about his sore legs as they've stood still for quite a while. His mother has the signs of a long incision scar at her throat, and Jesse can't help but pale at the idea, anxiety clear in his movements as he watches her breathe incredibly slowly, pressing a thumb to her throat for a moment as if to clear something from it, before she hesitates, and turns away again, hiding herself under a curtain of thick black hair.

Jesse sets his mouth into a thin line and stays quiet.

He's only known one person who ever had Hanahaki. That was his ‘aunt’ Marie, who his real mother lived with before he was taken away from her after she stopped properly feeding him as a toddler. Aunt Marie had a nasty gash over her neck and chest, as if someone had cut her open during a botched operation. In reality, from what he had gathered over brushed oer stories from his dads, aunt Marie had tried to remove the tumour herself, and had gone to the ER in order to have the growth removed and the nasty gash sewn shut. Jesse remembered telling her she looked like a warrior from the books he’d seen, and she had smiled at him. Aunt Marie had always been nice, according to his own mind. Probably why he remembers her more than his mother.

Jesse pretends he hadn't been looking. He wonders what stage the woman got to before the flowers had to be removed. The line shuffles forward slightly, and Jesse examines her movements. He can't see any more scars. Must have been recent, but an early removal.

Come to think of it, save for her child, she's alone-

Satya pulls on his arm, hauling him along the passage as her suitcase wheels click noisily against the bumps on the stairwell floor, Jesse carefully being sure to not step on it accidentally. They make it outside just fine, where the stairs, open doors of the planes, and the hands of overly cheery flight instructors beckon them inside to take their seats, gloved hands checking over documents. Jesse gets a second glance, and momentarily, he panics, suddenly wondering if the passport changes hadn't gone through, though he knows it’s bullshit. He was let through before with it anyhow. He's allowed to take his seat after a quick glance anyway.

The plane is clean, or, as clean as a plane can really be, no food stuck to the walls around him, no smeared windows, and no gum pressed to the fabric of the seats.  
Jesse is tempted to just kick his feet up and recline, but that's a dick move, so he's not gonna do that.

Satya, after stowing her luggage overhead, takes her seat beside Jesse, as he carefully edges the case under his seat, though he keeps the strap resting over his ankle, paranoid about it sliding back.

“Nobody will want to take your belongings, Jesse.” Satya says, her voice slightly muffled as she attempts to turn a little awkwardly to search for the other half of the seatbelt, which is wedged between her own and the row seat, where a plump, friendly middle aged woman now sits, and is happy to help, eagerly thrusting the metal buckle in Satya's direction after a few moments of scrambling in the gap. Satya thanks her with several kind words, doing her best to give a natural smile. It works, as the woman adjusts her glasses and smiles back, turning to the flight attendant giving safety demonstrations up front with a look of almost intense concentration on her widely set face.

Jesse sits in silence, switching his phone to aeroplane mode after navigating through to the message menu in order to let Gabriel know they're taking off soon. He knows that it's a myth, but still, he's been lectured on it too many times while on vacation, primarily by Jack, that it's a habit by this time.

The engines rumble underneath him as the plane takes off several minutes later, and Jesse takes out the folder from his case, pulling out his slightly crumpled acceptance letter from deep inside the case, Satya reading over his shoulder with a look of curiosity on her face as her gaze flips from Jesse to the paper, though craning her neck is difficult due to the plane climbing through the sky, clouds within a few minutes reach.

“... is something wrong?” Satya asks him, her voice edged with concern as Jesse stares at the ink on the paper as if it was going to jump out and bite him.

“... It's weird, ain't it? Trying to… like, this is real. I dunno. Never really thought I would get a chance on this level, and… damn. Ana is a blessin’, I'm a lucky fuck. Happy I knew her. Or… know her. I dunno what to call it at this rate.”

“Well… I think you are deserving of the position.” Satya begins, attempting to straighten her posture while being roughly pressed back against her seat by the planes movement. “whilst you did do poorly in school-" Jesse interrupts with a huff. “ I think your excitement and passion for this work makes you a worthy contributor. Ana Amari does not seem like she would select people solely based on her relationship with them. In her emails, I got the impression that she would not be that way. She must think you have the potential.”

Jesse is beaming as if he's never been happier, and is rather tempted to lean over and hug Satya. “You say you're shit with people, darlin’, but damn, you just know what to say sometimes-" he gets a sharp kick to the back of his seat from one of the members of the family behind him for swearing, but he ignores it, lowering his voice just a fraction as he shuts himself up.

“... I am only being honest. It just so happens that I have a positive opinion of you and your abilities. I may be… misguided~” Satya chuckles, muffling it with a delicate press of her hand to her mouth.

“Aww, Satya-" Jesse pretends to whine, tilting back his hat to better expose his puppy dog eyes, which look rather ridiculous. “Just when I was gonna go and praise you silly, doll.” Satya barely disguises a snort, and Jesse resists the urge to join in, face reddening lightly with the effort. 

The jokes end soon enough, both of them quiet as Jesse flips through the worn magazines for something to do other than waste his phone battery looking through old photos of him and his friends from a few years back. He checks the time that's passed.

12 hours for the flight, now. At least, that's what it's supposed to be, he supposes. Probably gonna end up being an hour or so longer, knowing his luck.

Silence, as Jesse sits up, glancing sideways at the others in his row. The majority are sleeping, appear to be working, or are silent. One or two are chatting. It feels almost surreal.

He turns the page, examining pages upon pages of useless material nonsense as he traces the shape of elaborate bottles of unnecessarily expensive perfumes and colognes with really over dramatic names with a slightly unsteady fingertip.  
Nothing too interesting, save for the badly photoshopped people currently making their place known in the adverts for holiday destinations, the mother in the advert who is clutching her child having… unusually white and large teeth. Jesse snorts despite himself, and closes the worn magazine, dumping it into the pocket in front of him with a heavy sigh. Tiredness does not cling to his eyes, and thus, he can't sleep away the time. He eyes the flight attendants, trying to see if he can occupy himself with shitty food instead. The only one up is in the other row, and having a rather loud conversation with a little boy about his hotwheels cars. It's not worth the bother, anyway, to awkwardly whisper in order to avoid waking Satya up from her pleasant slumber.  
Something's… wrong. The air feels normal, but breathing felt wrong. A shudder runs down Jesse's spine. As if something is trying to warn him to not keep doing what he's doing, though he knows nothing is gonna happen.

In an attempt to ignore the tension, he delves into Satya's document bag to fish out the black pen she keeps in her front pocket.

He winds up sketching on napkins for another two hours of his waking time on the flight, but falls asleep around three hours later, lulled by the soft vibration of the engines and the lack of sudden noises that seem to come from within the plane, willing away any traces of fear.

He wakes up to Satya gently shaking him. His tray has been put up for him, and there's a light resistance against his movements. He can see light outside the window, blaring down into the plane. Jesse can't see much through the blanket of clouds, but fleeting glimpses of the city below through wispy breaks in the formation is enough to make him grin like an idiot, wiping tired eyes as he turns to a rather cheerful looking Satya, her eyes sparkling behind that layer of intelligence that always seems to remain there.

“We… we landing?” Jesse asks, muttering softly as Satya nods to confirm it. He brings a hand to his hair, attempting to smooth it down and not look every part of the messy American stereotype. Satya smirks with a degree of satisfaction, already beginning to check over her things to ensure they are not lost during the exit of the plane. Jesse hears a hacking cough from several seats behind him, and does his best to ignore the sound, though it sounds like someone vomiting.

“mm… Good flight, huh? Glad I slept through most of it. I hate sittin' still for too long.” Jesse remarks, blinking for a moment as he's suddenly handed a small packet with the napkins he drew on contained inside, Satya's face not giving away her emotion.

“uh-"

“They were good. I assumed you would want to keep them, unle-"

“No, no-" Jesse interrupts, grinning suddenly as he closes his fingertips carefully around the opening of the packet, slipping it into his bag after a few moments of awkward fumbling, despite the press of the planes descent against him. “I'll keep em. Thanks, Satya.” he offers her a pleasant smile, hearing an melodic beep as the seatbelt sign flickers on almost lazily above them. “Just a bit out of it. Not the best at waking up.”

The descent is uneventful, save for the cough, the pressure inside Jesse's ears making his ears pop and feel generally uncomfortable, as well as the low, slightly muffled sound of a baby deciding if it wants to cry or not. Jesse, excited, peers out the window, excited to see the cities and of a new country. 

Surprisingly, the way off the plane and into the airport is a lot quicker than back home, and the staff offer friendly smiles, rather than stone cold glares that you would usually expect from airports back home in the states, or what he's had from experience. He's happy enough with it, and security is surprisingly more tolerable this time around, letting him through after a much shorter period of time. Jesse tips his hat to a young woman working there in thanks, who looks confused, but seems to accept the gesture. Jesse suddenly regrets his… minor knowledge of Japanese mannerisms. He wants to go back and apologize.

Cheeks still burning crimson, he hurries with Satya to collect their luggage, his eyes bright with excitement. He scans the crowds, looking for Fareeha even though he knows she won't be standing near them until they're in the main area again. Jesse practically yanks his suitcase off the conveyor in his excitement, easily identifying it with its bright red colour and cactus patch, haphazardly sewn in the upper left corner. In his excitement, he narrowly avoids taking a quick tumble to the floor, as Satya silently scans the moving cases for any sign of her case among many other mild greys. 

“You look as if you are about to lose it.” Satya speaks several minutes later, as she carefully pulls her case off the moving conveyor with a gentle huff, ensuring not to place it down too harshly.

“I'm excited to see Fareeha, don't judge me.” he whines, pretending to be offended as he clasps a hand to his chest, Satyas lips quirking into a smile as she grabs his forearm, pulling him in the direction of the doors with a look on her face that McCree can't quite read.

The atmosphere is odd, and Jesse doesn't quite know what to expect. He suddenly feels a bit stupid for not reading up more on the language, as he can pick up next to nothing in reading.

“Hey, uh… you speak Japanese, right?” he asks Satya, his smile nervous, unstable.

The woman turns around sharply as they step onto the escalator, eyebrows furrowed in utter frustration. 

“You are in Japan. You have known about this trip for eight months. And yet, you do not speak any Japanese.”

“Hey, I speak a little-" Jesse slumps, embarrassed and defeated as he avoids making direct eye contact with Satya. 

“Jesse. Watching anime does not count.”

“I don't watch-”

Satya silences him with a harsh shush, but she's grinning, and Jesse feels a hot burst of shame, focusing his eyes instead on the signs printed onto the side of the escalator, warning him not to do certain things.

“I don't watch anime.” he huffs, adjusting his hat so he can partially shield his face, stepping off the escalator with a great deal of difficulty due to the weight of his case. He hauls his suitcase onto the smooth airport floor, which is gleaming under artificial lights. His shadow is split into numerous pieces, skimming across the floor in the shape of a fan, warping and changing direction as it encounters a new light source.

There she is.

Standing there, clad in a blue t shirt that's at least a size too big, and jeans so worn it makes even Jesse feel slightly impressed, is Fareeha, so engrossed in reading something on her phone that she hasn't even noticed the appearance of her childhood friend. A bomber jacket is hanging loosely off her shoulders, stuck full of badges he doesn't understand the references to, but somehow, it doesn't look lazy, or awkward. It's… just Fareeha. She's even got the same braid in her hair that Jesse used to tug on playfully while chasing her around Anas garden. She looks different, but also… doesn’t. Somehow, the delicate taps of her worn trainers against the clean floor mimics that childish hyperactivity he always loved about her.

Jesse grins, and happily quickens his pace, Satya falling into line beside him as if she is attempting to try and form a uniform line.

“hey, Fareeha!” Jesse calls out, practically jogging as his backpack swings against his back, thumping as he ignores the clatter of his heavy suitcase wheels against the smooth floor, grinning so widely he thinks he might split his cheeks in two.

She looks up, glancing around to identify who called her as she sees Jesse, shaggy, tired, and with the happiest look in his eyes. Hands are soon around his torso, and Jesse is laughing, ignoring the strength he feels in Fareehas steely grip.

“Jesse! Ah, it's been so long… Good to see the goatee ended up not just being a dream- Or more accurately, drawn on by mothers eyebrow pencils?~”

“Oh, ha ha. Hilarious. But yeah, it's real-! Tug on it if you wanna-"

“... I'll pass! I've tugged on your hair often enough to know it comes out easy- You're Satya, right?”  
Fareeha quickly turns her attention to the woman standing behind her childhood friend, Satya blinking a few times before she comes to a realisation that she has been addressed.

“Ah. Yes-" Satya holds out her hand, worrying her lip with her teeth as her hand is taken in Fareehas and rather roughly shaken, making her jump.

“Delighted! Jesse said you were super clever, so we'll be good having you here. Keep him in line, willya? We know what he gets up to, but mother only has one eye and can't keep one on our residential cowboy when he gets up to mischief.”

Jesse only laughs, throwing back his head in an exaggerated manner, drawing some confused gazes from onlookers. 

“Ah, you hurt my feelings!~” He beams, Jesse's hat tipping back a little on his head. “But yeah. I probably need… like a babysitter.”

“A good babysitter. A blonde farmer babysitter.”

“You mean my pops? Pfft, nah, he just yelled at me when I did my own thing.”

“Good. He's doing it right.”

Jesse grins, watching Fareehas gaze wander over the airport floor, attempting to map the route to the door.

“The sites around an hour drive from here, 45 minutes at a push. I've got the car parked nearby.”

“With what I've heard about your driving, 45 minutes likely means multiple near death experiences- So Ana knows we're coming now- well, like, I emailed her this morning-"

“Yeah, mother knows. She's excited to see how you've been, Jesse. Especially since Gabriel told her you-"

“Yeah, Yeah, I know! I… I read the email. Hah. Its… it's been a pain, but it's doin' alright. I wanna grow a full beard at some point, y'know. Like… I don't care how messy it is. It'll just… well, it'll be great.”

Jesse is beaming, following Fareeha eagerly as he butts into the conversation, his eyes shining as if he's not truly focusing on reality, and rather just moving on autopilot. He can feel the heavy rise and fall of his chest, feel excitement throbbing through his veins at the idea of being able to finally discover something.


End file.
